


Size Matters

by commanderlurker (honeybee592)



Series: OTP: You're the boss [18]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Christmas, Christmas Tree, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:19:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8844787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/pseuds/commanderlurker
Summary: Iron Bull learns that size matters when it comes to Christmas trees.





	

Grace stares longingly at the Christmas tree decorating the department store window. Her longing is so great that she slows, her arm stretching forward while Bull’s stretches back. It’s covered in gold baubles and tinsel and there’s a golden angel at the top. Gold lights wink in and out and a shiver goes down Grace’ spine. She glances at the bag Bull holds in his other hand then skips back to his side with a bright smile. He squeezes her hand and smiles back, and they continue walking back to Bull’s apartment, their pace just a bit quicker.

*

Bull lounges on the couch with Grace napping on his chest, a tangled rope of Christmas lights on the floor. Sure, it’s cliche and cheesy but who hasn’t tied their lover up in Christmas lights before? Anyway, Grace had asked for something “festive” and Bull wasn’t about to deny her request just because he thought it was tacky. She’d looked amazing though, completely defied his expectations. As usual. She’d never been more gorgeous as the reds and yellows and oranges twinkled and blinked around her body. Shit, he could wrap her in seaweed and she’d be beautiful.

Her request had come with a sting in the tail though. Not deliberately. No hint of passive-aggressive complaining. She hadn’t come right out and asked, “Bull, why don’t you celebrate Christmas?” and he was glad for that. But, as he looks around his living room, he sees what she hadn’t asked. The place is completely devoid of tinsel, fake snow, pine scents and gingerbread. No out of place red or green anythings. He doesn’t even have any Christmas cards on display, not even the ones he gets from marketeers in the mail. Fuck, even Dorian’s put a holly wreath on his door and he’s the grumpiest grinch around. Besides, he’s still working through pumpkins from Halloween. That’s the only holiday tradition he’s picked up since moving here and that suits him fine.

But Grace wants a Christmas tree, that much is obvious. No doubt she’ll have one up at her own place already but she spends so much time at Bull’s these days that it’ll just be collecting dust. Bull looks around, assessing spots suitable for a tree. Coffee table’s out: they fuck on that. No good on any of the book shelves, either. Hey, maybe he can throw some tinsel on the potted fern and call it done. He eyes the coffee table again. Fuck, not like they don’t have the couch, the suspension rig, the sex couch, _and_ a bed.

He reaches for his pants, wrapping one arm around Grace as he leans out. He misses first time, catches his little finger the second, and pulls them closer. Grace mumbles at the disturbance so he strokes her back and kisses her head. He fishes his phone out and three minutes later he’s got a tree and decorations ordered. Job done.

*

He’s putting the finishing touches on the tree when the doorbell rings. The door opens and Grace calls out who’s at the door.

“Hey, Grace,” Bull replies. “You know you don’t have to ring the bell. I gave you that key so you could just come in.”

“I know, but I don’t like to startle--oh! You got a Christmas tree.” She smiles, eyes fixed on the two foot artificial tree standing on the coffee table. It’s not Grace’s happy smile. It’s her polite smile. Bull’s heart sinks. She wanders over, dropping her bag on the couch. She fingers one of the baubles and doesn’t look at him. “It’s very nice!”

No, no it’s not very nice. It’s terrible. It’s worse than terrible. It’s the most awful thing to ever happen to her. His mistake is a pit so deep that he has no hope of climbing out. He distracts. “Have you had dinner? I thought we could go out.” Get her out, away from the scene of the crime. The chicken breasts wrapped in bacon with buttery  mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables could wait. As would the sex he’d planned.

Grace jumps on the idea and Bull wraps up warm before they head out. He closes the door only a little more firmly than necessary.

*

Bull doesn’t bother pulling off his boots or coat when he gets home after dinner. He just grabs what he needs from the cupboard then goes across the hall to knock on Dorian’s door. The wreath bounces off time with this thumping. After a moment of muted shuffling, the door opens. Dorian stands there in a purple silk gown that shows an indecent amount of chest and thigh. For a second Bull thinks he has company, but his hair’s all mussed the wrong way and he’s rubbing his eyes.

“Kaffas, Bull. What are--”

“I need you to come and help me chop down a tree.”

Dorian pauses his eye rub to stare at Bull.  His fist turns into a raised his finger of question, then he lowers his arm. “Bull. I don’t even know where to begin. You want me to help you chop down a tree. Now? It’s eleven at night. Where are we going to find a tree? And why in all that is holy, do you own an axe? No, don’t answer that. I don’t think I want to know.”

Bull leans on the axe handle. “We’ll go to the park. Lots of trees there.”

Dorian sighs. “A Christmas tree. You want to get a Christmas tree, don’t you.”

Bull nods. He’s not ready to admit his mistake to Dorian.

“Are you doing this for Grace?” There’s a glint in his eye and a smirk forming. Bull will just have to endure it. “You love her, don’t you. You’re doing this because you love her and you want to make her happy. Ha. Adorable.”

“Look, are we going to get a tree or not?”

Dorian leans on the door frame. “Yes, but not now. We’ll go tomorrow, to an actual tree retailer. I won’t have you chopping down innocent trees in the name of love.”

Bull grumbles. “Fine. We’ll go straight after work, okay? And it’s not love.”

Dorian chuckles and moves to close the door. “Good night, lover boy,” he says as the door clicks closed.

*

They take Krem’s truck but because Krem’s the only one on the insurance, Krem’s drives. Bull and Dorian squish up next to each other in the front seat. They get more physical than they’ve been for a while when Krem throws the truck around the corners and onto the highway. The road is full of evening rush hour traffic but Krem weaves between it all like he’s at the speedway and not driving a beat up old milk truck.

“You’ve never gotten a tree before, Chief. What’s happened?” Krem asks.

“He’s in love,” Dorian replies.

Bull avoids glaring at Dorian but can’t keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Grace wants a tree. I’m getting her a tree. You got a problem with that?”

Krem shakes his head as he overtakes a mini. “Only if it means you’ll be ditching us for whatever posh one percenter crap she wants to drag you to.”

“She’s not a one--” ah for fuck sake. _She_ might not be but the greater Trevelyan empire was. “She did ask but I said no. Like I want to spend my day eating foie gras and talking about stock prices and little Lucinda’s horse riding lessons.” Like Bull would ever miss out on the Chargers’ absolutely-not-Christmas-dinner piss up. Bull might not celebrate Christmas, but he celebrated drinking, no problem.

Krem grunted. “Good. Nice to know you’re still you. You in, Dorian? You’re always welcome, you know.”

“Thank you, Krem. But no. I prefer to celebrate alone.” He almost succeeds in covering his bitterness with false cheeriness but even Krem side-eyes him.

Bull’s about to say that drinking’s better with company when Krem pulls the truck off the road at such an angle that he fears the whole thing will tip. When his head’s stopped spinning he’s confronted with  fir trees. Everywhere. All cut and leaning against a fence. He’s stepped into some kind of Christmas nightmare. Dorian elbows Bull and Bull stumbles out the truck. They’re in some random layby, surrounded by Christmas trees and what feels like a hundred other cars. Probably more like ten, when he’s calmed down enough to assess the situation. Couples and families tie trees to the roofs of their cars. Others are trying to get the back seats down. A motorbike roars and Bull turns in time to see the guy speed off with a tree strapped to his side car.

“Oi, Chief,” Krem calls. “Stop lollygagging and choose one.”

Bull is paralysed by indecision. There are too many to choose from. All different heights and widths. He has to pick the perfect one. Nothing less will do for Grace, not after his cock up. He shakes off the ones Dorian points at and heads to where Krem stands, looking up.

“How’s about that one, Chief?” Krem smiles as he nods to a massive tree. It’s got lots of thick, dark green branches and it’s shaped as close to a perfect cone as nature can make. His heart hammers in his chest.

“Perfect.” Bull hefts it onto his shoulder.

“I was joking, you idiot!”

But Bull is already headed back to the truck. He waves off Dorian’s protests as well and pays the shady looking guy with the dirty pink fanny pack. They all climb back in. Krem and Dorian glare at Bull but he’s too pleased with himself to bother with their shit. Bunch of killjoy assholes.

Krem stops outside Bull’s apartment but doesn’t hang around. “Double yellows,” he says through the window. “Hope she’s worth it,” he adds before speeding off.

The tree’s too big for the lift so Bull carries the damn thing up the stairs. He’s puffing and grunting and that wouldn’t be so bad but Dorian keeps sniping at him and shit, how’d he put up with that attitude for so long? During a stop on one of the landings, Bull tells Dorian to be useful and to go open up. He carries the tree the rest of the way in blessed silence.

He knocks the tiny, inadequate tree off the coffee table in his efforts to get the big, satisfying tree in the right place. No loss there. Once it’s settled in a bucket and it’s stopped threatening to fall over, he stands back and looks at it in all its glory. The tip is bent over at the ceiling and it takes up half the living room, but other than that, it’s perfect.

Dorian nudges at the rejected tree on the floor. “No wonder you wanted a real tree if that’s what you got first.”

“I didn’t know, okay? I fucked up and now I’m unfucking it.”

“All right, no need to be so defensive. The cafe could always use another. Mind if I take it?”

Bull waves his hand like he wants to send the tree to the abyss. “Be my guest.” He goes off to the kitchen to make refreshments while Dorian puts a few more stones in the bucket. They drink their hot toddies and admire the tree. Bull considers reiterating the invite to the Chargers’ dinner, but figures it’ll just piss off Dorian, so he asks Dorian what he’s reading at the moment. That does the trick and Bull doesn’t have to speak for a while. While he’s talking, Bull goes for the left over decorations, figuring he can at least make a start.

“Stop! What are you doing?” Dorian looks at Bull like he’s an idiot.

“Decorating the tree?” Bull offers.

“You should do that with Grace. She’ll like that. It’s fun, you know, to decorate it together.”

Bull waits for the quip or snark but it doesn’t come. Huh. Dorian actually being genuine. He’ll have to note this in his diary. Dorian assesses the decorations Bull has and declares them satisfactory. “A bit cheap, perhaps, but they’ll do.” He nods at the lights coiled up on the kitchen table. “They’re nice though. They’ll look good all strung up.” Bull can’t help but grin. Dorian pauses, then he rolls his eyes. “Kaffas, you’re so predictable. I’m leaving now, before you get any ideas.”

Bull thanks Dorian for all his help and this time he does tell him that he should come over on Christmas day. Dorian makes a noncommittal noise that Bull interprets as a no but ask me again when I’m two bottles in. Hey, can’t blame a man for trying.  
*

Hey Grace, you free? Come over. I have something for you.

I wish I could but I’m having a bath.

So, if you’re in the bath, that means you’re naked, right?

Want me to call you instead? ];p

Bull! No, not tonight, I’m sorry. I’m very tired. I can come over tomorrow, if you like?

Whatever works for you. I’ll cook.

You sure you’re okay? We can just chat if you want. No sex.

 

You’re very kind <3 Just a long day, that’s all. Nothing to worry over.

See you tomorrow. I love it when you cook :)

 

Enjoy the rest of your bath. Sleep well, Grace.

*

Bull’s busy in the kitchen when the doorbell rings. For once he’s glad she’s rung the bell. He looks over his shoulder, not wanting to miss her expression.

“Bull, it’s me.” She’s drawn to the tree immediately. She puts her hand over her mouth and steps in. The door shuts quietly behind her. She’s damn well got tears in her eyes. Bull wipes his hands on his apron before pulling it off. He wanders over all nonchalant. She glances at Bull then back at the tree. “It’s… it’s beautiful! Oh Bull! Is this what you got for me?”

“Uh huh.” He grins. He’s nailed this so hard he might as well chuck in his day job and become a builder.

Grace flings herself at him, arms wrapped around his torso. She steps up on tiptoes and plants a kiss on his lips. “Bull!” She can’t stop saying his name in between all the kisses.

He lifts her up, hands under her ass and carries her over to the couch. He drops her down and leans in, caging her between his arms. “Got something else for you, too.” He grins and kisses her nose before going over to the kitchen to retrieve a plain cardboard box. “You not coming over last night gave me a chance to get something extra special,” he says as he wanders back. “Here, open it.”

“Shouldn’t I wait until Christmas day?” she asks.

“Nah, these are for the tree.” His stomach flip flops in anticipation as she opens the box. Inside are more boxes, smaller, wrapped in garish--sorry, festive--wrapping paper and tied with ribbon. She picks one up and looks it over.

“It’s got a number on it.” She rummages through the box. “They all do. Bull, did you make an advent calendar for the tree?”

Bull grins. “Uh huh. I know I’m a bit late, but that just means we get to open a whole heap now, right?”

Grace looks close to tears again and something tugs at Bull’s heart. She shifts the box to the side and reaches up to cradle Bull’s face in her hands. She kisses him, slow and passionate. Lust stirs in his cock and he pulls her closer. He kisses her back, runs his hand up her thigh and under her skirt. Fuck. No. Not yet. He pulls back and misses her warmth.

“Go on,” he says. “You start hanging them. We can open the first ones after dinner.” With more effort than he’d like to admit, he gets up, then stops. “Wait, open the first one now.” He grins and Grace bites her lip. She’s catching onto his way of thinking, he can tell.

She finds the box labeled ‘one’ and pulls at the ribbon. The paper comes away. She gasps, gapes at Bull, and upends the box onto her hand. Bells jingle and she giggles. She holds the nipple clips against her chest and shakes. Bull has to admit, the sound is pretty festive. She looks up at him, eyes full wonder. “Bull! Are they all like this?”

He shrugs, one shouldered. “Some are toys. Others are suggestions. I can’t remember what I put in each box so it’ll be a surprise for me, too.”

She looks at her chest. “I want to put them on now.”

“And eat your dinner topless? Can’t say I’d mind that. But how about we wait. Anticipation and all that.”

Grace shakes the bells again and laughs. “Okay. Okay, we’ll wait. But shoo! Go! Cook quickly!”

Bull laughs and kisses Grace before following her orders.

*

Bull leaves Grace asleep in his bed and wanders into the living room. He had considered leaving the tree lights on but thought better of it, forcing himself to get up and turn them off. He smiles, knowing just went on under that tree a couple of hours ago. He takes a moment to sit on the couch and stare at the tree. Grace really did a great job. The boxes all are nicely distributed--with the 25th as close to the top as she could reach. She said they’d have to get an angel because, “that’s the proper way”.

As he kneels to turn off the lights, the jingly bell clamps sparkle where they sit on the coffee table. He picks them up and shakes them, grins as his cock stirs, even now. They hadn’t even caught up on getting up to date with the rest of the boxes, having too much fun with the clamps alone. Bull stares up at the stupidly big tree and thinks yeah, maybe this Christmas thing isn’t so bad after all.

 


End file.
